This poker journal is dormant as of October 20, 2006.
It will be kept for archives. Enjoy.
Felicia

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Thursday, March 4, 2004

"Omaha 8/b exists for the same reason that country music exists. There has to be something for people who aren't good enough to play anything else."

--Linda Sherman

The poker room has turned upside down again. For the last three weeks, the Omaha 8 tourney has been very short, never selling out. Last week we only had 32 players, I believe. Along that line of reasoning, we decided to go to the Belle late in the evening. Um, bad plan. The room was packed, with five full Omaha 8 tables. Doh!

We were only able to get into a Stud game. I don't really enjoy 1-5 Stud anymore, but I must say that it's still better than that stupid $2-5 spread limit Hold'em.

A tourist on my right kept complaining about the tourney. "I have been playing all day and I was assured that I would get a seat if I was in a cash game at 5:45pm!" He threw such a fit that James finally gave him a seat before the seats were sold out. In other words, he got a seat before we did, since our table was the last to be started in the poker room.

I told him that I didn't know of a better system for them to hand out tickets. If anyone is involved in the TD business and knows of a better method of pre-registering players for a tournament, please write me.

In his defense, after he cooled off, he did apologize and tell me that the reason he threw such a fit is because he had been playing HE all day, and if he'd been told that if he switched to Stud he might not get a seat, he never would have switched games. He went to the trouble of explaining himself to me and the table after I'd called him on his brown nosing and made him look like a buttmunch in front of a crowd. As usual, I was the only one who said anything about his "preferential treatment."

Because of him, I was unable to get a seat in the tourney. It was sold out. Several of us drew for the last two tickets, but I drew a low card. Glenn drew a queen. He later insisted I play the tourney, since he likes cash games better anyway, and has given up caring about the WPT seat. I thought it would be better if he played, since he is much better at O8 than I am, and has more points.

I lost at Stud. I only made one mistake, but it was big enough to turn a winning session into a losing session. There was this guy next to Glenn. He was big and ugly, wearing a gold medallion a la 1985 and an unbuttoned shirt a la 1975. He took off his shoes to play, and he was not an attractive man, so it wasn't such a great sight. Anyway, all he did was talk. He talked so much, so loudly, and so strangely that he put me off my game for one hand. It was towards the beginning of my session, he had just sat down. I started out with a pair, and made a second pair on board. I never filled up, but his board looked to be either a straight or flush, by the time sixth was out. He bet the maximum on 7th, and even though he would have bet even a busted draw (if he played correctly) in this situation, I still should have called. Instead, my Hold'em rationale reared it's ugly head, and I folded to what turned out to be two smaller pair. We were HU, so there was no reason for me not to call. Bah!

During the tourney, I was sitting to left of the guy who had been so affected by the smoke during the week before. We talked a bit about it, how rude the players were being, even though we'd said nothing. He thanked me for the fan, and the support. I told him that I hadn't been feeling that well the week before, or I wouldn't have been nearly so tactful about the situation. My big mouth probably would have gotten me into trouble, lol.

On my other side was a guy from Tucson. He told me that the Desert Diamond has really gone downhill since Glenn and I visited last year. Too bad, it was beautiful. I figured that their high rake would eventually get them in trouble.

There was a man at the table next to ours. He was a tourist. He had the thickest, curliest, Howard Stern looking hair. It was under a cap, so it stuck straight out like a clown. It was hilarious. Most of the male dealers at the Belle are bald. I kept promising them that if I won the tourney, I would tip them enough to buy a wig like that guy. Seriously, I was jealous of all of that hair! Jeez, I wish I had 1/4 that much hair.

There weren't many ups and downs during this tourney. I wasn't winning big pots, but I wasn't getting knocked out either. I was just kind of floating, staying a little ahead of the blinds. I hate those tourneys. I'd rather just get busted and go home.

Finally our table broke and I went down to the final three tables. I got seated right next to the big hair guy. I didn't last long there, having A2xx, A23x, A2xx and never getting a low on any of them. We were down to 24 players, but I needed to make at least 20 to get WPT points. I couldn't hang on. I was all-in in the BB and didn't make a low, nor anything more than a pair. Blah.

I actually had a great time, though. During this tourney I had a fantastic table, mostly tourists, who were joking around and laughing during the entire two hours we were together. No one was arguing (thus not perpetuating the saying that Omaha is "Argu-ha"), dealers weren't making mistakes and then trying to blame the players, nor vice versa. We were just having a good time. The tourists were even laughing at my jokes, which are pathetic and lame. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, just there to have a fun time for their $25 buy-in.

That is the one great thing about the Belle. There are rarely really bad days in the cardroom.